Just You
by Liv Wilder
Summary: S6 finale-fic. 'Flowers dress the pews like garlands. The light strains of organ music drift down from above. Happy faces are everywhere. Candles burn, their glow like firelight and heady perfume scents the air. But the murmur of conversation, kept low in deference to their surroundings, is an incidental background to the single, jarring thought playing over in his mind.' COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 - Just You

_A/N: My (unlikely) version of how things might go down..._

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Just You**_

He stands alone at the altar.

Ryan and Esposito, his two best men (because really, who could choose) stand off to one side. But despite the close presence of his friends, he feels alone. Utterly alone without her.

Flowers dress the pews like garlands. The light strains of organ music drift down from the balcony above. Happy faces are everywhere. Candles burn, their glow like firelight, and heady perfume scents the air. But the murmur of conversation, kept low in deference to their surroundings, and the hum of energy that fills the church with life, is but an incidental background to the single, jarring, demanding thought playing over and over in his mind.

She's late.

Kate Beckett is late to her own wedding, and that's just not like her. No traditional, fashionably late bride she. Being punctual is a personality trait, a point of pride, a lifelong quirk woven deep into her DNA. Being punctual today of all days is something she promised him, right along with lacy garters, stockings and suspenders, and a something blue she refused to share with him until _after_ they were married.

She's late and he's trying not to worry. But be feels anxious and alone without her, and there's just no shaking that.

* * *

Time ticks on. The congregation becomes restless, the reverent hum becoming a noisier, anticipatory buzz.

When Alexis reaches his side, her pale face paler than he's ever seen it, her cell phone clutched in her hand, he knows.

She's late, and that's not like her. Not today, not ever. Tradition be damned. She's as eager as he is to do this, maybe even more so these last few weeks. Her face full of it every time he catches her staring into space; that dreamy, feminine, forever look in her eyes. Or when he catches her watching him, her long fingers curled around the two engagement rings she keeps close to her heart on the long silver chain she wears tucked inside her shirt at work.

He's knows what she's thinking, and she knows that he knows. But they never talk about it. Knowing is enough. Being in this place with her now – this time in their lives – is more than enough. He counts his lucky stars every day that they made it this far, over every hurdle they faced, and came out stronger, more together, more special than any other couple he knows. And maybe Kate is right that he shouldn't be so smug, but then he figures he's earned a little smugness this time, because he sure as heck earned her.

His forehead wrinkles into a frown, his eyes smart, and he grips Alexis' wrist to steady his hand as he peers at her phone, his vision swimming.

The words 'Jim Beckett' and 'hospital' leave his daughter's lips and reach his ears, but nothing much else makes its way in.

The boys crowd round, form a tight little circle only his fabulous, colorful mother manages to breach. Family protects him, shields him for a moment from the glare of curiosity – three hundred pairs of eyes watching and waiting with a collective swell of interest; like sharks scenting blood in the water they await the inevitable.

* * *

He leaves by the side door. Hurriedly. Gravel crunches underfoot. The ushers are briefed to address the gathering, to break the news, what little of it there is at this point.

Car doors slam, people pile in beside him, their physical and emotional presence holding him up. Blood rushes in his ears, as loud as the sound of the ocean breaking on the shore. He sees nothing the whole way there except for her face. Her beautiful, smiling, joyful face.

'_I'll be waiting for you, Kate.' _

'_No, Rick. I won't make you wait for me this time. I promise.'_

Gravel becomes concrete sidewalk, then squeaky, grey, vinyl tile. His shoes reflect the glare of overhead strip lights on their polished, black patent toes. Other people deal with the formalities – the who, the why, the where – their voices mumbling, unfathomable sounds that fail to breach the screaming mess inside his head.

The elevator doors open and he heads inside, his chest tight with the crush of everything he daren't give voice to – ever fear, every hope; he treats them both the same. When he turns to face front and the doors slide closed, he instinctively feels for her hand, finding his daughter's small, cold, clammy digits instead. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs, pressing the back of his knuckles against his mouth, forcing it back down. His eyes water and burn, he breathes noisily through his nose trying to regain some control.

Because all of them, here, together again in a hospital…

* * *

"Dad?" Alexis voice and the light squeeze of her hand stirs him enough to put one foot in front of the other, to leave the protective bubble of the elevator and make his way to the nurses' station.

Two dark figures stand sentry down the hall, all in black with brassy highlights. He spots them immediately. He knows how this works. He's been here before. He eschews the formalities and heads straight for them, his eyes burning with fear and fire and so help me God if she's not…

The uniformed men nod and step aside. His hand falters on the door handle, sweat making his palm slide against the tilt and press of metal. A doctor's voice, calm and businesslike, can be heard from inside. He pushes on.

Inside the room the air is still. Time stops.

He briefly closes and then reopens his eyes. Relief rushes through him turning his legs to jelly.

She's lying on top of the bed, her wedding gown spread out around her. Curls escape from her elegant chignon; their messy tangle nothing any stylist would ever attempt to create. The right shoulder of her dress is torn, the sleeve separated from the wide-curve of the neckline. He tries to tear his eyes away, still programmed not to look, since this is her wedding dress and he's not supposed to see his bride before the big day. But he can't. He can't _not_ look. This _is_ their big day, only not how they'd planned to meet when they whispered promises to one another in the dead of night right before she left the loft to stay at her dad's place last night.

'_I'll be there waiting, Kate.'_

'_Rick, no. No more waiting. Not this time. I promise.'_

In spite of everything, she looks so beautiful that it takes his breath away all over again. Her milky smooth skin, the bare orbs of her shoulders, the elegant lines of her collarbone and slender neck all enhanced by the design of her dress. The sight of her, pale and roughed up, transfixes him beyond anything he can control. Blood stains the silver-grey, intricately hand-beaded bodice of her gown. Droplets have been caught and spread on the white tulle of the skirt. She could be Snow White, he thinks, as the jackhammer in his chest ratchets up another notch. This sweep, this absorption of all that she is right now, this living, breathing second, takes just three beats of his heart. And then his eyes travel up again to lock with hers - big, brown and soulful.

* * *

Her face crumples the instant she sees him, tears well in their amber depths, her chin trembles, lips puckering, and a single sob swells in her chest, breaking free like a hiccup. He goes to her, hands outstretched, seeking out her oh so tiny, shattering face.

"Baby," he murmurs, soothing her even as his own heart breaks at the sight of her raw fear, her pain, and her terrible disappointment.

Her ability to divest herself of her cloak of bravery in front of him alone swells pride in his chest. Someone clears the room and they are left alone.

"Shhhh," he whispers, kissing her swollen cheek, her split lip, gentling the shuddering in her chest.

She clutches his wrists, her grip fierce and strong. "I thought I'd never see you again," she whispers, for his ears only, her forehead pressed against his to form a perfect cocoon. "They promised. Me for you."

"No. No," he soothes, fingers slipping into her hair and round behind her head to hold her steady. "There is no me without you, Kate," he whispers urgently, needing her to understand this desperate truth. "Only you, babe. It's always been just you."

She squeezes his hand and he nods, breathing steadily to get air back into his lungs again. If she is alive then he needs to be too. Breath in, breath out, repeat.

"Sit," she tells him when he sways on his feet, and he feels like a fool. She's the one lying in the hospital bed and he is the one who looks like he might faint.

He lands hard in the institutional bedside chair, vinyl covers squeaking under his weight, a thin gush of air leaving the padded foam cushion. They stare at one another for a long, silent moment.

"What happened?" he asks suddenly, needing to replace his own terrible imaginings with the terrible truth of the day.

She clutches his hand, her tear-stained face calmer now. "Tyson," she murmurs, her eyes widening, as if uttering his name alone might summon him again, like a demonic genie in a bottle.

"_What?_"

Kate nods, her fingers tightening around his so that they are bone to bone. "Tyson and…and Kelly Neiman." She shudders and he watches as goose bumps retexture her arms. "My dad..."

She closes her eyes and more tears begin to fall. "I'm so disappointed, Castle," she blurts when her head shoots back up again, the words rushing out of her mouth like a wail.

"Shhh," he soothes, hating seeing her so upset. "Just take a breath and tell me what you know. Go slowly, okay?"

* * *

Kate takes a couple of deliberate breaths and tries again. "Dad…he…he…the doorbell rang," she explains haltingly, shaking her head from side-to-side as if to sharpen her memory or chase it away, he isn't sure which. "He went to answer it. We assumed it was the chauffeur."

Castle's blood runs cold, his skin clammy with chilling sweat. "But it wasn't?"

Kate blinks. "No…well, yes, he was dressed as a chauffeur. But not the real one."

"What happened to the real driver, Kate?"

"They drugged him and stuffed him in the trunk," she explains, as more tears run in rivulets down her cheeks.

"Wait," says Castle, looking back towards the door of the hospital room, aware of his surroundings for the first time since he left the church. "Where's your dad? Where's Jim?"

A crushing sob leaves Kate's throat and Castle rushes to stand. Bending over her, he carefully gathers her up in his arms to hold her. "Where, Kate?" he whispers, running his fingers over her hair and down her back, again and again.

"Down the hall. They drugged him too," she manages to say, pushing gently on his shoulder to get him to sit down again once she composes herself.

He fishes a white handkerchief out of his pocket, doesn't know why he didn't think of it before. Carefully, he begins to dab the soft pocket square over her cheeks, blotting her tears and removing the evidence of her ruined make-up, even helping her to blow her nose.

Her knuckles are skinned and swollen, and one of her nails is chipped and ragged. She has an angry bruise on the side of her head. His heart aches for her. Her special day ruined. All their planning and hoping destroyed by this twisted, spiteful, vindictive, unhinged man who seems to feed off his attempts to destroy their happiness.

"Tell me he's okay?" he asks, carefully taking her hand as he settles back down beside her.

Kate nods, a watery smile on her face. "He came round in the back of the ambulance. Asked me what he'd missed," she tells him, a tiny sob of a laugh bubbling out of her.

"And then?" asks Castle, needing to know everything, even though it's like picking at a scab.

"We—" Kate bites her lip and raises her hand to point to the table over by the window. Her bouquet is lying on the hard, plastic surface, the delicate white and pale pink petals of the peony roses she chose to offset her gown slightly crushed on one side.

"Go on, love," he encourages, stroking the back of her hand.

"We got our things together. He was…early, but I was excited, you know?" she admits, flashing Castle the first genuine smile he's seen since he got here.

He nods in reply, his own nascent smile mirroring Kate's.

"So, I made dad get our things. The camera, my bouquet, keys… Dad took my cell phone. They waited until we got out near the car and then Kelly appeared from nowhere. She used a rag to drug my dad and Tyson pulled a gun. It all happened so fast. My guard was down completely. Castle, I froze," she whispers, her face flushing with shame.

"Hey, hey, now. No. I want none of that," he tells her, tipping her chin up to get her to look at him rather than hide her face away. "You're a bride today, Kate. You're not a cop. You were on your way to your wedding...to get married. No one would expect you to fight off those lunatics."

"I'm so ashamed."

"Babe, don't be. You're here in one piece. Your dad is safe too. That's all that matters, you hear?"

"Only because his neighbor, Joe, saw the whole thing, got his hunting rifle to the tires in time to stop them leaving. I—I fought with Kelly," Kate admits, looking down at her ruined dress. "She had a scalpel, Rick," she whispers, clutching his hand even tighter. "Said she was going to make me perfect this time."

Castle scrubs a hand down over his face, doesn't know if he can stomach hearing anymore, but Kate carries on talking anyway. And maybe she needs to get it out, expose it to the light, dissolve the power this awful memory holds by repeating the details out loud. Whatever the reason, he's ready to listen.

"The inside of the limo was laid out like some…field hospital. There was a sheet covering the bench, this…this array of surgical instruments spread out on a green cloth, swabs, a mask…bandages," she says so faintly he has to strain to hear her.

"Joe shot out the tires and we lurched to a stop. I—I dunno. That seemed to kick-start something. I saw my dad lying there in his suit…so pale, and I snapped."

"Where are Tyson and Kelly Neiman now?" asks Castle, eyes scanning hers for a clue.

"I stabbed Kelly in the arm. But they both got away."

"And Joe?" Castle wants to shake this man's hand. Maybe nominate him for a medal.

"He's helping the cop who's taking point. Hunter, I think his name was. Helping give a statement. His wife is the nosiest woman on the block. Turns out she was watching at the front window, waiting for me to leave. She saw the whole thing."

* * *

Castle smiles softly at her, finally letting his gaze travel down over her dress, absorbing everything.

"I'm sorry you had to see the bride before the wedding," Kate tells him gently, surveying the damaged gown along with him.

"I'm not," asserts Castle, fiercely.

"I'm sure this isn't what they usually mean by bad luck," grins Kate, wincing when her lip splits open once again.

"Homicidal maniacs? Deranged plastic surgeons?" asks Castle, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I'm sure you're right."

"I was so scared," admits Kate, her voice barely a whisper, taking the handkerchief from her fiancé's hand to dab at her bleeding lip. "I didn't want to die without ever knowing…"

Castle lets his hand come to rest on her tulle-covered thigh. "Knowing what?" he presses, giving her thigh a gentle squeeze.

"What it would feel like to be your wife."

_TBC…_


	2. Chapter 2 - And Me

_A/N: Thank you for reading this story and for all your reviews and Twitter messages. _

* * *

**_Chapter 2: And Me_**

_Previously..._

_Castle smiles softly at her, finally letting his gaze travel down over her dress, absorbing everything._

_"I'm sorry you had to see the bride before the wedding," Kate tells him gently, surveying the damaged gown along with him._

_"I'm not," asserts Castle, fiercely._

_"I'm sure this isn't what they usually mean by bad luck," grins Kate, wincing when her lip splits open once again._

_"Homicidal maniacs? Deranged plastic surgeons?" asks Castle, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I'm sure you're right."_

_"I was so scared," admits Kate, her voice barely a whisper, taking the handkerchief from her fiancé's hand to dab at her bleeding lip. "I didn't want to die without ever knowing…"_

_Castle lets his hand come to rest on her tulle-covered thigh. "Knowing what?" he presses, giving her thigh a gentle squeeze._

_"What it would feel like to be your wife."_

* * *

It is with a slow dawning stupidity that Castle finally realizes he hasn't even kissed her yet. He hasn't _really_ kissed her, and suddenly he needs to remedy that. Remedy that stat, before either of them gets any older.

He stands and leans over her, speaking a little formally. "Kate, I'm going to kiss you now," he murmurs, stroking her chin with his thumb, gently angling her head towards him.

"Wha—"

Her eyes flutter closed the second their mouths meet for the sweetest, slowest, tenderest kiss he can ever imagine sharing with her. The caress of his lips over hers, the slight tremor of her velvety-soft skin, the tiny moan she emits as she cups his jaw; all are perfect.

"There," he whispers against her upturned cheek, nudging her fragrant, flawless skin with his nose. "That's what it feel like. To be my wife."

Her eyes fill with tears. It's a sweet gesture, but not enough. Not exactly what she's been planning for or hoping for since the day she accepted his proposal on the swings. But it's better than the alternative; she does know that.

* * *

She drifts off for a little while not long after that, her head pounding until they agreed to give her some pain meds to help with the relentless throb. They're worried about a concussion. She went down pretty hard once the car slammed to a halt and they ended up back out in the street. She and Kelly. Neiman is a fighter, a scrapper it seems, for all her glamour and that cool, cold, controlled exterior. Even a scalpel to the biceps and a missing handful of hair didn't slow her down.

Tyson seemed to sense the game was up in the face of Joe, the crack-shot hunter with an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle in his hands and two tires under his belt already. He scarpered. Didn't even wait around to get his girlfriend out of there. A lone wolf, as ever.

This story comes out in bits and pieces over an intense fifteen minutes after the nurse comes in to check on Kate.

"What time is it?" she asks now, reaching for his wrist and easing up the French cuff of his white dress shirt.

Castle's sapphire blue, Swarovski crystal cufflinks sparkle intensely under the hospital's overhead strip lighting. The jacket of his tux is slung over the back of the chair and his necktie hangs loose around the collar of his shirt. He looks like a Rat Packer heading home after a good night out - Dean Martin maybe - with his tousled dark hair, his top buttons undone and his tan throat exposed.

Kate smiles at the watch once she reveals it on his wrist – her wedding gift to him – and then she looks up into his handsome face as she fingers the shiny perfection of the dial.

But when she sees the time, her expression falls again, crumpling a little, her eyes turning cloudy.

"Hey, don't worry about that now," soothes Castle, stroking the length of her elegant, narrow fingers in an attempt to distract her.

"Nearly three hours," she says regretfully, smoothing her hand down over the front of her dress. "We would have been married almost three hours, Castle."

* * *

She asks him to tell her about his day – about the church and the flowers and who turned up wearing the most outrageous hat (his own mother, of course). He shares what little he can remember. He is honest about his own nerves, about being so focused on awaiting her arrival that he absorbed little of the hubbub of activity going on around him - Espo's jokes about misplacing their rings, the back slapping and air kisses from friends not seen in a long time, the calming words of the celebrant the more agitated he became, and then finally the call conveyed by Alexis that led them all to the hospital.

They catch up like this, sharing their separate tales of woe because being apart for them now, for any real length of time, has become something of an alien concept. They work together and they live together and they don't keep secrets. Not anymore.

But the longer they decompress, the calmer they get, the more saddened and angry Kate becomes over their ruined day.

Finally, Castle returns to his usual self long enough that he begins to take note, to hear the real source of her pain, to acknowledge his own need to fix this for her; to remedy the mess that's been made of her 'one and done' shot at marriage; even if he of all people knows that a marriage is forged from a whole lot more than the wedding day itself.

A light tap on the door reminds him that they are not alone in any of this: the disaster that their special day has turned into.

Lanie's head appears around the doorframe, her smile tentative, as if she's unsure what to expect. "Hey," she intones softly, taking in these new surroundings and the quiet, almost mournful demeanor of her best friend and her husband-to-be. "How's everyone doing in here?"

Kate plasters a brave smile on her face, but both Castle and Lanie know her so well that they can see right through it. "Been worse," she shrugs. "But rarely so overdressed," she adds with a wry smile, plucking at the full tulle skirt of her wedding gown.

"Okay if I come in?" asks Lanie, with more deference to their personal feelings than usual.

"Sure. The more the merrier. Right, Castle?" says Kate, letting her hands flop back down by her sides with a huff that gives away how truly fed up and despondent she's feeling.

Castle stands immediately, offering Lanie his seat. The M.E. protests, but the writer insists. "I think I'll just take a little trip down the hall," he tells Kate, whose face instantly radiates her true mood: her fear and concern at being parted from him. "Check on your dad for a minute. I'll be right back," he promises, returning to her bedside to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

* * *

Lanie settles into the chair Castle has just vacated, spreading her bridesmaid dress carefully on the seat to prevent it wrinkling.

"So, how're you _really_ feeling?" she asks Kate, giving her friend a hard stare.

"Sore. Disappointed. Embarrassed. Angry."

"Those are some big feelings you got there, Kate. Have you talked to Castle about it?"

"Yes. I—it's so unlike me, Lanie," she laments, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. "When he got here I kind of…lost it for a moment. I think with the build-up to today, all the planning we put into everything…" Kate shakes her head.

"Honey, the way you're feeling is perfectly understandable," her friend assures her, squeezing her hand. "Most brides only have to contend with a few nerves, maybe worry about forgetting their vows or trying not to trip over their dress. No one expects a deranged serial killer to pop up out of nowhere and try to kidnap them."

Kate twists her engagement ring round and round on her right hand. "I know. I just…I wish today had turned out differently. We were supposed to be married by now, Lanie. Sipping champagne, eating those tiny little $10 lobster sliders Castle insisted on having, dancing our first dance."

Lanie lets Kate vent because all of her concerns are valid. This is more than just self-pity.

* * *

"How'd he like the watch?" asks Lanie after a moment of quiet, trying to distract her friend. She feels so bad for her after all she and Castle have been through to get to this point. "Did he read the inscription?"

A smile blooms on Kate's face and Lanie breathes a sigh of relief that she's managed to conjure a pleasant memory for Kate in the midst of all this stress and disappointment. "I gave it to him last night before I left. He…he loved it," she nods, her eyes sparkling at the memory.

Kate touches a hand to her throat, trailing her long fingers down her neck, following the path that Castle's lips meandered after she presented him with his wedding gift. She hears Lanie clear her throat and snaps out of her daydream just in time to catch her friend smirking at her. Kate's cheeks flush an attractive shade of pink, the first color she's regained since they brought her into the hospital.

"Uh-huh," the M.E. drawls, knowingly, arching her eyebrow. "Liked it that much. I see."

The inscription on the underside of the watch read:

'_When I'm with you, I wish I could stop time so that we can __be together…always.'_

The lettering was tiny, but the jeweler had made an amazing job of the intricate engraving, even managing to use their own font* to personalize the message further.

* * *

Before Kate can show Lanie the stunning pearl drop and diamond earrings Castle gave her the previous evening, or describe the engraved silver spoons he got them as a joint gift, the door to her room flies open with such force that it hits the rubber floor stopper behind and literally vibrates on its hinges.

Lanie and Kate both startle at the sudden intrusion, their eyes wide and their mouths slightly open as they observe the man blocking the entranceway.

_TBC..._

* * *

_*Note: The reference to 'their own font' comes from the post-6x17 one-shot I wrote for 'In The Belly of The Beast', entitled 'The Letter', in case you haven't read it and were wondering what that meant. Thanks for reading. I'll post a few photos associated with this story on Twitter - the silver spoons and Lanie's bridesmaid dress if you're interested. You can follow me at livwilder2 x_


	3. Chapter 3 - Together

_A/N: I don't have much of an excuse for the delay in writing this beyond 'I haven't really been feeling it lately', which I know is lame, but it might also be something a few of my fellow fic writers can identify with. Anyway, if you're still with me, I thank you. _

_A quick reminder that this is intended to by m__y (unlikely) version of how things might go down season finale wise._

_Here goes..._

* * *

_**Chapter 3: Together**_

_Previously..._

_Before Kate can show Lanie the stunning pearl drop and diamond earrings Castle gave her the previous evening, or describe the engraved silver spoons he got them as a joint gift, the door to her room flies open with such force that it hits the rubber floor stopper behind and literally vibrates on its hinges._

_Lanie and Kate both startle at the sudden intrusion, their eyes wide and their mouths slightly open as they observe the man blocking the entranceway._

* * *

He enters the doorway at speed in a kind of sideways skid, grabbing hold of the doorframe to prevent his leather soles from making anymore headway down the hall over the shiny, waxed surface of the floor.

"All is not lost," Castle proclaims breathlessly, suddenly realizing from the look on their faces that he may have startled the two women with his sudden appearance and lack of general preamble. But he's excited - excited to share - so he pushes on, hoping that they'll just catch up with him since they're both such crazy smart people.

A (so far) silent man in a black suit materializes by his side, their combined, solid presence blocking out all light and noise from the corridor beyond.

Castle turns his gaze on Kate. "Your dad is doing great, by the way. He just beat me at Rummy," he announces, glancing back along the hall towards Kate's dad's room.

His future father-in-law's room.

Kate and Lanie continue to stare but neither of them says anything.

"Oh, this is Frank, by the way," he finally has the presence of mind to add; the introduction falling a little short of Castle's usual high social standards, but then these are unusual circumstances. "Frank is the hospital chaplain."

Both women nod hello and wait for Castle to continue.

The writer rubs his hands together, suddenly a little nervous about explaining his plan. He feels so much is riding on it. He simply _has_ to get it right because he only has one shot to sell his idea.

He clears his throat and cracks his knuckles. "_So_…the chapel is just two floors below us. Now they sometimes use that space for AA meetings on a Saturday night. Isn't that right, Frank?" he confirms with the chaplain, his newly co-opted sidekick.

The man nods piously but adds nothing verbal to Castle's rambling, breathless explanation.

"_But..._and here's the great part. We're in luck today because AA is combining with GA and NA for their monthly movie night down at the local Y."

Lanie sniggers at Castle's alphabet soup of an explanation, and a slow grin begins to spread on Kate's face too.

Castle pauses to take a breath, using the time to smooth his hands through his hair, which has been sticking up a little since he arrived at the hospital in a blind panic. He lowers his voice to a more intimate tone, addressing this next part to Kate alone. "Now, I know it's not exactly what you envisioned when we spent all those months trying to find the perfect venue, Kate, but—"

"We'll take it."

Her response is instantaneous and it silences him completely. He backs up, does a double take, glances at the celebrant again and then resumes his sales pitch, because his brain has yet to catch up with his hearing.

"The stained glass windows are really pretty and the hospital administrator said we can even have candles if we promise—"

"Rick, I said, we'll take it. We should take it," she nods vigorously, holding out her hands to him. "Definitely."

Lanie stands and moves out of the way, allowing Castle to get closer to Kate alongside the bed.

"Definitely? You're sure?" he asks, his own smile dissolving into view the longer his fiancé nods at him, his hands now clasped in hers.

"I think it's a great idea. Under the circumstances."

"You do?" asks Castle, his expression one of pure delight that he's able to do this for her – to put a smile back on her face and make her dream for this day come true out of the nightmare it so nearly became.

"What a story to tell our kids," she grins, squeezing his hands and raising them to her lips to kiss his knuckles. "Minus the serial killer part, obviously."

Castle nods in agreement, grinning like a lunatic. "Obviously," he agrees.

* * *

The hospital celebrant comes in and sits down with both of them to run over a few details – the limitations on the space they'll be working with, the lack of flowers, music restrictions etc.

But for all these drawbacks, there is a simplicity that accompanies these new plans and a calm serenity that radiates from the man himself; someone much more used to dealing with tragedy, to counseling the sick, the dying, those whose illness has made them question their faith or the purpose of their lives. Frank Sheppard is more used to supporting the newly bereaved than performing wedding services, and somehow that makes him perfect for this task and for this couple, whose lives have been and will continue to be touched by death in so many ways.

The simplicity of the event appeals to Kate too, since it refocuses everything on the true, deeper meaning of why they are marrying one another in the first place. The chaplain listens to their requests for certain readings and they inform him that they have written their own marriage vows. They agree that the ceremony will take place at six o'clock, subject to Kate and her dad being passed fit by the doctor to attend.

The room is cleared once the chaplain leaves to prepare the hospital chapel. Lanie reappears to take charge, banishing Castle from Kate's bedside so that he won't see the bride before the wedding this time, at least as a token nod to tradition.

Kate and Castle share a few final, quiet moments together before the writer obeys Lanie's orders to make himself scarce for a while.

"You're sure this is what you want?" asks Castle, carefully sitting down by her hip on the edge of the bed.

"Rick, I want us to be married. Today was the day we both chose. We shouldn't allow Jerry Tyson or anyone else to prevent us from doing that if we can help it. Right?" she asks, re-clasping both his hands in hers.

"But you're sure? There's no grand aisle to process down, our flowers…gone…I—"

Kate silences him with a quick clench of his fingers. "Hey, _you'll_ be there and _I'll_ be there, and that is all that really matters. We could go down to city hall and tie the knot at this point. I just want you. That's all today is about for me, Castle. Just you."

Castle bites his lip. "Your vows are going to make me cry, aren't they?" he asks, his expression so soft and emotion-filled already.

Kate just smiles, her gaze so tender and sympathetic.

"You make such a beautiful bride, just as I knew you would," he tells her, finally allowing himself a moment to take in the full effect of her preparations for their big day. "This dress is—"

"Ruined," sighs Kate, smoothing her hands down over the silver, beaded gown. Then she squares her shoulders and smiles bravely. "But never mind. This is about making a life together, a commitment to one another. Not dresses or flowers or anything else. Just you, Castle. You and me."

* * *

Lanie eventually reappears carrying a small make-up kit she seems to have secreted with her in her purse when she went on ahead to the church. Castle is ejected while she and Alexis set about touching up Kate's hair and repairing the damage done to her make-up during her fight with Kelly, when they struggled in the back of the limo.

A needle and thread (actually a #2 non-absorbable polyester suture and an eyed surgical needle that Lanie takes three attempts to thread) are procured from the nursing staff. Kate changes into a hospital gown so that the shoulder of her torn dress can be repaired.

The nurse comes in now and again to check on Kate, but they are largely left alone. Alexis takes care of her broken nail with a file and a buff, while Lanie sees to her wedding gown. The mood in the room is light and relaxed, the two women filling Kate in on all the gossip Castle missed as he stood nervously at the alter awaiting her arrival, too anxious to notice much about his surroundings or their guests for himself.

When they can't get the blood stain out of the white tulle skirt of her gown, Kate simply opts to remove the detachable skirt, turning her dress into a simple, figure hugging, silver beaded sheath of a gown that shows her silhouette off to perfection. The effect is more than stunning and more befitting an early evening wedding in the small, non-denominational chapel two floors below.

"You know, I think I like it better this way," says Lanie, standing back to admire their handiwork.

"Let's hope Castle likes it," says Kate, smoothing her hands a little nervously down the front of her dress.

"Honey, that man would marry you in a garbage bag with a hollowed out pumpkin on your head. Of course he's gonna love it. He loves _you_," she adds with a whisper and a conspiratorial smile.

* * *

Time passes quickly and with just a half-hour left until the rescheduled time of their wedding, a doctor comes in to assess Kate's fitness to leave her room. He checks that her pupils are still equal and reactive, examines the bump on her head and asks her a standard list of questions to test her memory and cognitive abilities. They confer and eventually come to an agreement, a deal of sorts that will allow her to attend the service two floors down just so long as she comes back to have her vitals checked afterwards with a view to deciding if she must remain in the hospital overnight or is well enough to be discharged.

Lanie squeezes her hand and Alexis kisses her cheek when she complains about being placed in a wheelchair to make the short trip down to the chapel as per hospital policy. Alexis hands her the slightly crushed bouquet, having fluffed it back to life as best she could. Kate cradles the peonies carefully in her lap. Her dad arrives in a matching 'chariot', as he insists on calling it, and they hold hands as they are wheeled down the hall together, laughing at the ridiculousness of their wedding transportation.

Lanie and Alexis halt outside the doors to the chapel and Kate turns to look at Jim. "I don't know about you, dad, but just this once I'm all for breaking the rules. Are you okay to ditch these wheels?" she asks Jim Beckett with a mischievous smile.

Jim winks at his daughter, his feet already on the floor. "Just try and stop me walking you down the aisle," he tells her, straightening out his suit jacket once he's standing upright again.

Lanie and Alexis park the pair of wheelchairs out of sight down the hall, and then return to help Kate and her dad make final preparations.

"Is everyone inside?" asks kate, suddenly a little breathless and nervous, butterflies swirling in her stomach, her cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink.

Lanie nods and squeezes her hand, tucking a tiny escaping curl behind Kate's ear so affectionately. "Everyone is ready when you are, hon. So, just take a breath and come on in when _you're_ good and ready. Alexis and I will go ahead and take our seats at the front. Good luck," she whispers to Kate, giving her a parting kiss on the cheek.

* * *

Suddenly they are but two – the remaining Becketts - standing out in a hospital corridor, over-dressed by a country mile for their current surroundings, both eyeing one another giddily.

"Your mom would be so proud of you, Katie," Jim Beckett tells his daughter, eyes full with the soft swirl of memory, of private moments shared between a husband and his wife, mother and father, that Kate to this day has no knowledge of.

Did they ever talk about her wedding day, make plans, imagine the women their little girl would become? Kate has no idea. Did they share their dreams for her future; express their hope as to who they thought their daughter might become or the kind of man she might marry one day?

"She'd be proud of you too, you know," Kate tells her dad, smoothing her palm down over the lapel of his jacket, straightening his tie.

"Thanks, Katie bug. But just look at you…so radiant. You're glowing. I don't need to ask if you're sure about marrying Rick. It's written all over your face."

Kate shrugs and smiles, she simply can't help it. "He makes me happy, dad."

"I can see that," chuckles her father. "You know, most brides would call the whole thing off after a shock like we had today. Postpone until they could make everything perfect again. Not my Katie," he grins proudly, gently clucking her cheek.

"Perfect is a relative term, dad. Took me a long time to learn that. If you have what you need…" she shrugs, this knowledge making her steady. "Today is perfect already, providing you and I can get down that aisle without some hospital busybody insisting we ride in wheelchairs."

"Is that a pretty way of saying let's get on with the show?" asks her father, looking at her with such pride and such tender fondness.

"That's my way of saying, _you're_ here and _I'm_ here and Rick is waiting for us at the alter. So…I wouldn't change a thing."

* * *

Kate takes her father's arm and as soon as the doors to the small hospital chapel are opened she hears Esposito say: "Hit it."

Music immediately begins to play from an iPod dock in the corner. The song is one she instantly recognizes - an acoustic version of Leonard Cohen's _'Hallelujah' _sung by Jeff Buckley.

'_I've heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played, and it pleased the Lord_

_But you don't really care for music, do you?_

_It goes like this_

_The fourth, the fifth_

_The minor fall, the major lift_

_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah'_

Castle turns as soon as the improvised music begins to float out of the speakers, and when she catches his eye his face is a picture – overflowing with pride and love and excitement like he's fit to burst. Kate smiles back at him, her grin spreading as wide as his, crinkling their eyes and baring their teeth. They both look so happy.

Kate and her dad reach the end of the short aisle by the time the first chorus is over and Esposito discreetly mutes the music. Castle was right about the stained glass windows. Whoever designed this quiet space deserves an award because the colors in the glass shine like polished gemstones, spilling vibrant red and blue and green tinted light onto the plain tile below, turning its utilitarian surface rainbow-hued. When Kate drifts her eyes back up from the floor she sees flowers displayed behind the chaplain, along the surface that acts as a kind of altar. These are _their_ flowers, she realizes, the ones they chose for today with the help of Martha and her extravagant eye for style. Lanie catches Kate's gaze, smiles and bobs her head towards the boys. She sent them over to the church to salvage what they could of their flowers to help set the scene here. The scent of roses and honeysuckle perfumes the air, transporting Kate out of the hospital entirely.

To add to the intimate setting even further, large candles glow on every available flat surface – on the altar, and on small side tables that line the walls and the back of the simple chapel. The entire room radiates warmth, light and color – it is beautiful beyond words. Kate smiles back at her friend, mouthing the words "_Thank you_", never so grateful for the love and support she knows is surrounding them today.

Finally, Kate hears the words "Dearly beloved…" and then her mind snaps to the man by her side and to the entirety of their loved ones filling the first couple of rows of the small chapel – Alexis and Martha, tears already brimming at the older woman's eyes, to Lanie, Kevin and Jenny, Esposito, and even Gates, who'd hurried to the hospital as soon as she heard the bad news when it spread through the church like wildfire.

She feels the warmth of Castle's hand as it brushes the back of hers and she turns to him, smiling and radiant. She catches his fingers, hooking her pinkie with his and she tugs playfully as the chaplain asks, "Who gives this women?"

* * *

The service passes in something of a blur for both of them. She can feel the firm press of her partner's hand in hers, but the chaplain's words drift in and out of hearing, so focused is she on the man beside her - on him and them - that nothing else really matters.

Time eventually comes for them to make their vows to one another. The celebrant indicates for Kate to go first and she glances over at Lanie, who reaches out to relieve her of her bouquet of frilly white peonies. Kate she takes a deep breath, turns to face her partner, reaching for both of his hands since she needs something to hold onto to tether her pounding heart.

One loving look from Castle and her breathing slows, her pulse rate drops, and the words she has spent so long fretting over freely come to mind. Her voice is strong when she speaks and he is rapt, captured by her all over again.

"Rick, today I finally take you as my husband, with so much love and respect for you in my heart. From the day we met you have been saving me in more ways than you could ever count." Kate pauses, savoring their private joke and Castle lets go of a small, nervous chuckle in response. "You haven't stopped saving me since. You make the seemingly impossible seem possible. You even mended this day for us. I have never been as excited about anything as I am about sharing the rest of my life with you. You are my lover, my best friend, my partner in all things, and I can no longer imagine my life without you. All the days I lived before I met you were but preparation for the magic to come. All the days ahead will be ours, experienced together, today, tomorrow…always."

Castle's eyes have filled with tears by the time she finishes speaking, just as he knew they would. He clears his throat and prepares to answer her vows with his own. A single, salty rivulet runs down his cheek as he takes a wobbly breath, blowing it back out again to compose himself, and Kate reaches up to wipe it away with the pad of her thumb. The smile Castle gives her right then is like the most magnificent display of sunshine radiating through the clouds after a long, dark winter, and she finds herself smiling back at him as if they were they only two people left on the planet.

Castle squeezes her hands in his and then he looks into her eyes; his own filled with complete wonderment at being here, doing this with her.

"Kate, when you and I first met, you were such a mystery to me. For a long time I thought you were a puzzle I was never going to solve. But the truth is, _you_ are _my_ missing piece. You complete me, Kate. You make me feel the best that I have ever felt – the happiest, the most inspired, the bravest, the most whole. Some days I look at you and you leave me without words…_me_, the writer, just to witness your beauty, your heart, your loyalty and your devotion to duty. You have an inner strength like no one I have ever known. You make me want more for my family, Kate. And _you_ are my family," he tells her, giving her fingers a quick squeeze. "I am so proud that you have agreed to be my wife. The love that I feel for you goes _way_ beyond measure. I promise that I will walk beside you wherever life takes us, partners in everything. Always."

* * *

The celebrant turns to Kate at this point, whose own eyes are now glistening with tears of raw emotion, to ask, "Do you, Katherine Houghton Beckett, take Richard Edgar Alexander Castle to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forth, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

Kate cuts the chaplain off, anwering with a firm and enthusiastic "I do," before he has even finished speaking.

Lanie and Esposito giggle at her eagerness, but both Castle and Beckett only have eyes for one another.

When the chaplain asks the same question of Castle, he has to pause for breath, once more overcome by the power of the moment. Kate arches her eyebrows in question, nervously awaiting his response.

A sharp, "_Well?_" from Lanie cuts through the emotion of the moment and Castle finally snaps out of it and manages a resounding, "I do. Yes, I most definitely do," to more laughter from the congregation.

"Rick, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity," says Kate, gently easing the shiny, new wedding band onto Castle's finger. "I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life."

Castle takes Kate's ring from Esposito and repeats the same words, almost dropping the ring in the process, since his hands are shaking so badly. Kate covers Castle's fingers with her own and stills him for a second, leaning forward to whisper "Breathe, babe," to her almost-husband so that he can complete the task.

Seconds later, the ring is firmly on her finger and a round of applause ripples through the small gathering before the chaplain can even say the words, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

They need no urging or permission from anyone to seal their union with a kiss. They simply turn to one another with the most perfect synchronicity, hands reaching out to caress and cradle, and when their lips meet, there is not a sound or a motion in the world that could distract them from each other.

They kiss softly, tentatively, for several seconds, wrapped up in the beauty of their love - two souls coming home.

When they draw apart, Castle cradles Kate's face, gently brushing his lips over her bruised cheek, before resting his forehead against hers.

Kate reaches for his wrists, wrapping her slender fingers around them and holding on tightly. "We made it," she smiles, her eyes glistening with happy tears. "We're married."

"Want to blow this joint, Mrs. Castle?" he asks, offering Kate his arm.

She smiles at him, shaking her head in disbelief that after all the years that have passed since they met, all the hurdles and difficulties that almost kept them apart, and all the months of planning since she agreed to marry him, they are finally here. "Just try and stop me," she replies, securing her arm in his and allowing him to lead her back up the chapel's small aisle, now husband and wife together.

* * *

Out of sight down the corridor, a man and a woman stand apart from the hospital hubbub, clipboards clutched to their chests, white coats helping them to blend in - a stethoscope here, a pair of glasses there - small details designed to disguise around those who would keep them from their ultimate goal.

"How sweet," mutters the man, his voice swimming with saccharin sarcasm.

"They'll keep. Just a little while longer," adds the woman, adjusting the bandage on her forearm, where bright red blood seeps through the gauzy layer.

The happy couple return to Kate's room surrounded by family and friends, until the discharge of Kate and Jim Beckett can be arranged.

When they leave the hospital thirty minutes later, hand-in-hand, silly smiles firmly fixed on their faces, they are wholly oblivious to the two medics standing in the corner of the foyer, overly engrossed in their departure.

"We'll see you at the hotel," Kate tells her dad, kissing his cheek, as a line of town cars idle out in the parking lot ready to ferry their small group to a hastily reorganized wedding dinner. "I love you, dad," she tells her father, fresh tears watering her beautiful smile.

* * *

Castle helps his new bride into the back of the lead car – a black Mercedes S-Class sedan – and they settle back against the leather seat with a shared sigh of pure relief. "Helluva day," grins Castle, turning to look at his radiant, new wife.

"And it's not over yet," purrs Kate, running her nail along the sharp crease in Castle's tuxedo pants.

"I like your thinking, Mrs. Castle," he leers, wiggling his eyebrows at his sexy bride.

"Oh, I predict you'll like my _doing_ even more, Mr. Castle," she adds, relentlessly walking her fingers up along his pants' leg to where the folds of silky wool fabric are gathered at the top of his well-muscled thigh.

The driver heads uptown, their progress slow in the early evening crush of yellow cabs, private cars and mass transit vehicles. A traffic signal turns red at the junction up ahead and their car is forced to glide to a sedate halt.

"Today has been _the_ happiest day of my life, Kate," whispers Castle, leaning in to press his lips to hers before the car begins to move again.

"For me too," agrees Kate, sliding her fingers through her husband's hair, her eyes fixed on his gentle, sensual mouth.

In the heartbeat that follows, the sickening noise of screeching tires is the last thing that either of them hears.

_FADE TO BLACK_

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading._


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